Plague Mutation
by kagato23
Summary: Sorta another Johnny/Devi reunition, but with a big difference. Not happy. Fixed chapter 3!
1. Prequel: Interal Conversation

This takes place at the same time of the first chapter it's the prologue to. If you can't figure out who everybody is, then you need to read this a lot more. This is not Yet another. This is my attempt at serious work.

Meetings

She saw, and she glared. That was all she could do anymore. See and glare. And usually, the view wasn't much to see. This was intolerable. She wasn't supposed to lose. How did that bitch become so strong, so fast? None of the others, even the ones that won, had such a curve. So she'd been forced to play Her hand far too soon, and wasn't nearly strong enough to fend for Herself. So she lost. But she wasn't destroyed. She was just latched on enough to live, to see, but nothing else. She was downfallen. She was broken.

She was really fucking bored!

And suddenly, just like that, she wasn't alone anymore. The old ones, the ones she came from, were close. Close enough to be heard. 

_Well bubba, we can't eat no squirrels if we don't got no pencils! I needed them #2 lead you bastard! Number TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! FACK!_

Of course, off all of them, He'd be the first to make conversation. Great. She wasn't even sure if She could talk anymore, and now She'd have to try and talk to Him. And He was in one of those moods.

_Can you hear me? Can I be heard? I don't have much anymore_

Silence. Her thoughts were only heard by Herself. She was that weak now. Wait…

_Augggghhh__! How did you lick the camel like that? Teach me master, you kiwi raping cow!_

Success! She'd made contact!

_Listen! I need help! This one became aware way too soon! She forced me out! And she's become to stable too let me grow again! I can't even manipulate her fate the way I am now! _

The other voice didn't miss a beat in responding

_Baby back ribs! Without proper maintenance, any deodorant can break down! Mommy, make that monkey stop swearing! _

She wondered if even He didn't understand Himself sometimes

_Look you anorexic shit! Will you stop babbling incoherently for a few moments and actually help my out! This one could get stronger still! All she has left is her one drive! We might have to deal with an unbeatable!_

_Everything can be beaten._

That was a new voice. One She hadn't heard before.

_Excuse me?_

_Everything can be beaten. They crumble, they bleed, they scream, they melt, they evaporate, but they all can be beaten. No exceptions._

_Oh, ignore It the first voice said. __It's upset because It lost his friends when It was still developing sentience. _

Now Her interest was piqued. He never talked coherently when He didn't have something important to say. And when ­He did talk that way, He was worth listening too.

_Lost? I don't understand…_

_Even they were beaten. Everything can be beaten. You can, I can, he can. The new voice again._

The first voice sounded amused. _Simple, isn't It? Very one track still. But give It time. _

She was confused. _You had room for another? A new one? Who was destroyed?_

The first voice didn't sound very regretful. _The stolen and corrupted twins.__ He started to fight back again, finally. And this time, he might have done it. But the idiot Pillsbury reject managed to actually succeed by complete accident, and the host died._

_WHAT?!?_

_Don't interrupt! The host died, but our benefactor insured he came back. Of course, the trapped presence was gone now, and it took its indentured servants with him. The conscience was dulled, and there was room for two more to grow. Naturally, they did. He's still ripe for us. But strong again. We have to be careful. One of the new ones, the desire, has made itself known to him, and It is still gestating. I, of course, remain the purloined letter. But were not working with the same strength we were before._

Despite Her amazement, She absorbed this pretty well. She'd had time to contemplate why She'd suddenly met silence from those She could talk to before, even before Her downfall.

_But we do have something to work with. Think about it. Were communicating again. They are close by. _

_Your right! It exclaimed. __We can use this as a trigger for both! This is how we can beat them!_

_It's something he wants too. A fourth voice. Not the traitor, it must be the desire. __He fights it of course, as he fights me. But it shouldn't take much. What about your end?_

_Not much. She admitted. __Sometimes I can whisper to her, but she blocks out my voice. Still, if the trigger works… we can set up more in the future._

_Lets__ do it! All voices exclaimed simultaneously._

She would have smiled, if She still had a mouth. Today wouldn't be so boring after all.


	2. Chatper 1: Bad day

One of the few reviews I got (You people make me sad! No love!) didn't understand what was going on. C'mon people! If you can't at least figure out two of the characters, I'm very disappointed. This time around, there is no excuse. If you can't figure out who is who, your just retarded. This takes place at the exact same time as the sequel.  
  
Plague Mutation Chapter 1: Bad Day. By kagato23 Kagato23@yahoo.com  
  
"We all have our bad days" Who the fuck said that? Sure, everybody says it. But somebody had to have voiced this universal truth into those particular words. Probably some idiot with a book to sell on Tv, with a plastic smile acquired and accentuated by the shitloads of money the author had gained more then any of his or her "patented techniques" to a better life.  
  
Well, he was having a really fucking bad day.  
  
Not that he really had any good days. They were all bad days. But every so often, one particularly bad day would come along, one he'd remember through the dim haze of general suckiness that seemed to comprise his existence. Hell, almost all he really had were bad memories. He wondered briefly if his inability to remember most of his life was because he'd once had good memories, or if his brain had just decided to dump a previous lot of crap and make more room.  
  
Then his attention turned back to the causes of today's badness. For starters, there was the incident at Stuff Your Belly with Bagels (he loved that name). The assholes he was used to, those were common place. But he'd asked for blueberry, and gotten raspberry! Raspberry! Honestly. And slitting the throats of everybody there with a butter knife, that was exhausting. His arms were cramped like a scrunchies dipped in prune juice.  
  
Additionally, he should have worn a jacket today. It was cold. Really cold. If he didn't remember he still needed food to live, he wouldn't have gone out today. Why couldn't he have remembered yesterday? Also, the voices in his head seemed slightly louder today. He'd had them screaming before, so it wasn't that big a deal. Hell, some idiot was screaming much louder on the street. But in addition, his nose had become intolerably itchy for no apparent reason. It was enough to drive a person madder.  
  
Because his day was still salvageable at this point, it was as if he had to ram head on into somebody. Not just anybody, somebody holding paints. Naturally, it got all over him. That was really bad. That meant he'd have to wash. And that involved touching himself.  
  
"GOD DAMN IT!" He screamed to nobody and everybody in particular.  
  
"FUCK!" Screamed the bumper.  
  
Wait a minute...  
  
***  
  
"We all have our bad days" Who the fuck said that? Sure, everybody says it. But somebody had to have said it first. She recalled him saying that once in one of their conversations, but that really didn't count for much. Somebody had obviously said it before him. Still, him saying it figured most prominently in her mind. She hated how he did that to her, even now.  
  
Anyway, whoever said it, she was having a really fucking bad day.  
  
The whispering was picking up again. She'd gotten completely used to blocking it out at this point, and it'd been growing fainter and fainter. But suddenly, it was stronger. Not too strong, but strong enough to be an annoyance, especially when she was carrying excessive amounts of art supplies. Plus, it was annoyingly cold, and her fingers were going numb.  
  
"SHUT UP!" She finally screamed to the sky, as she stumbled over a crack and stubbed her toe. That was just the breaking point for her silence. And then, because things weren't bad enough, she managed to ram into somebody. All her expensive paints spilled over the poor bastard, and her fingers, regaining circulation, were having that "pins and needles" effect she despised.  
  
"GOD DAMN IT!" The bumpee screamed.  
  
"FUCK" She returned, already in the screaming mood.  
  
Wait a minute...  
  
***  
  
"Nny?" The bumper asked.  
  
"Devi?" The bumpee returned.  
  
"..."  
  
"..."  
  
"..."  
  
"..."  
  
"Um... hi."  
  
"Hey."  
  
"..."  
  
"..."  
  
***  
  
Yeah. And there we go. That ending would look a lot better on tv or comic, but hey. I work with what I have. Now, If you had to wait till the end to figure out who was who, your stupid. Don't become a doctor. Cause you know, you'd be operating or something and end up pulling out the liver and eating it cause you thought it was a turd. Cause I bet you eat turds, don't you ya little monkey? Yeah yeah, I'll come over there and say it! BRING THE NOISE BIOTCH! . Okay, I'm done. Review this, or I'll cures your keyboard to make your fingers smell like pig grease and hay. You will not want to sniff them! 


	3. Chapter 2: Get yer conventionality here!

A person (whom I actually like) recently asked my why I'm so rude, man, nasty and generally jackass of a guy in these authors notes. The answer is pretty simple, really. I don't hate any person I've ever known. Well, I do hate my roommates taste in music, but that doesn't really count toward him. Besides, I like J-pop, so I know that somebody out there feels the same about me. 

But people, those I can't stand. A person is a intelligent, usually understandable creature capable of amazing things. People are a smelly mob of walking shitglobs, flinging their own at each other endlessly. So I hate people. And that's who I rant against. The people. You hear that dick-lickers? I'm talking to you people! Yeah, that's right! YOU! I fucked your mom! How bout that chickenshit? I fucked her gooodddddd!

Okay, getting back to something beyond juvenile humor, don't take it personally. Unless your one of them people. Cause you know, that's who I'm insulting here. Fucking people. Heh.

Now, if you didn't figure it out, "***" means a change in perspective. 

Plauge Mutation chapter 2: Get yer conventionality here!

It was a classic meeting, right out of the latest feel good movie with a predictable ending. A boy, and a girl, separated, having never expected to see each other ever again, now reunited by an accident on the street. Not by some effort to seek out the other, but by pure and simple fate. At least, that's how it appeared at the time. In any case, here they were. Unable to speak, both experiencing pure shock.  So many things left unsaid, so many questions as to what had happened then, what had happened after, it was too much to shove out of the mouth all at once, so after the initial greeting, the rest stayed in their throats, lodged there.

They stared at each other, amazed. Noticing things that had changed. Noticing things that had stayed exactly the same. Noticing how it was better, how it was worse. Very oxymoronic, the entire situation. There was so much conflicting things about the whole damn situation, yet very simple thoughts ran through the boy and girls heads.

***

_Oh hell! It's her! What do I do? What do I do? Say something your on your ass on the ground looking like a retard here you have to say something and say it now!_

"Ummm… I like what you've done with your hair."

_Smooootttthhhh__ Romeo!_

***

_Oh fuck! It's him! OH FUCK! IT'S HIM!_

***

And with that, the girl screams. Really really really loud. And from her prone position, kicks him in the face really hard. You can tell it's hard by the way his head snaps back and falls on the pavement.

She jumps up, and keeps kicking him in the face. And a few times in the stomach too. He doesn't really get a chance to react to any of this, because still screaming, she throws her arms straight into the air and runs in the opposite direction that the boy had come from.

The boy sits there, blood streaming from his face. He coughs up a little more. He checks his mouth to make sure he still has all his teeth. A crowd has formed to stare in fascinated horror at this point. He gives them the evil eye, and coughs again.

"That really really really could have gone better." He says, before shaking himself off and walking on. "I hope most of this is paint…" 

***

_HA! She thought. __Could that have gone any better?_

_Yes. He said somberly. But she detected a hint of the genuine thrill He had as opposed to his usual mania.__ But not much!_

_I have so much to work with now! The desire was pratically giggling. __I can really fuck with his head now! _

_We beat 'em good. It contributed._

_I wouldn't say I have it that good yet, but I'm definitely feeling the old vibe again! Any minute she's gonna scream fu- she did it! She just did it! She was jubulent, daring to hope for full recovery  again for the first time since… well, the downfall. _

_One things for sure people He put in. __We have a lot of work, and more then a little fun ahead of us now…_

***

Oooooooooooooooo! Spooky foreshadowing! Can you hand the suspense? CAN YOU HANDLE IT? I WANNA KNOW! Wow. That was really short. I mean, damn. Short. But it works, don't it? It is, of course, not near over.


End file.
